A violent necessity

The only person worth fighting is you. But when you're in love, you begin to fight against two. That's especially the case when you're in a long-distance relationship. You see, the reason is pretty self-evident. Love and relationship are two distinct domains but are somehow dependent on each other. Relationship is a heavy word coined by psychoanalysts who thought they knew better just because they had a beard to flaunt. Love is a lighter word coined by poets who thought they don't need to know better because they were lying anyway for rhymes' sake. Both the terms are alive today for a reason. When that person you can quite literally die for—or survive with—is close by, the equation is different. There's no bout. Neither is fighting nobody. Too busy consuming each other. However, as soon as the distance is in order, the desire to be close takes over. And your helplessness makes you fight. First against yourself. Followed by your lover. Thus resulting in an exclusive exercise on sanity. The question to be posed at such moments of desperation would be: "Why fight at all? Why not just let it be? Why the fuss?" Point. But it doesn't work that way, sweetheart. We are a species popular for a disease called boredom. In fact, a majority of our malice can be traced back to that luxury of not having anything significant to do with our time. Also, why one shouldn't give in to a farce called peace. For instance, try holding your breath under water. What do you when you're out of air? You fight. First against your lungs. Followed by water. That's how you reach the surface of life. Or love.